A warrior’s mind houses horror
and his scars, badges of honor.

Skies are the same everywhere,
with vision following anywhere.

Surely everyone somehow lies
and also depend on likely ties.

Everyone does like something
and as sure, dislikes one thing.

When life takes its final bend,
time tells everything at its end.

Eternity’ll run its long course,
leaving nothing just as before.


You can believe what you wish
but bad news is always heavier.
People ask you to make a wish
and choose what feels happier.

Still good is ever overwhelmed
by the bad already condemned.
Like the heavier are prominent;
lighter is always lost in content.


Kings and leaders are chosen
by common ordinary people.
They are lifted in their season,
taken up to be beyond simple.

Alas ordinary folks do forget,
from whence comes the egg,
again every chicken cometh;
such is the walk of every leg.

Simple people make leaders;
ever it is from amongst them.
As such these mirrored rulers
reflect those that made them.


If anyone tried to live forever
they would have a joyless life;
with iry loneliness everywhere,
like some timeless cutting knife.

Life should be richly bountiful,
not boundless and too plentiful.
Living ought to be just that once;
long enough for a good chance,
to sow seeds in rare difference.


Leave behind a good name,
and die without one shame.
It’ll represents you the best;
give your legacy a good rest.

You’ll liken a good old author;
still alive forever like a shore.
Good memories of your name
always fair and ever the same.


Honesty isn’t cruel,
it is exact and old.
But all lies are new,
unreal and so bold.

One lie begat more;
creating falsehood,
like a loving whore
in God’s priesthood.


I know a vegetarian Tiger,
it’s called the Ocean Sea.
It’s fearless in its hunger,
its anger is there to see.

It is only tame if it is fed;
only trusted when calm.
Only feeds those it held,
and never raises a palm.


Land is in pieces not peace,
when bold young are restless,
and wickedness is all at ease,
when righteousness grows less.

The majority make less noise,
and choked silent by choice.
A visible minority is in riches
and as inaccessably famous
as dreams, jobs and wishes.


Why make of beauty what it is not
or make falsehood the fact it is not?

Why call a name where it isn’t loved
or hate for reasons another is loved?

Why share in the logic for blind faith
then deny love it’s heartbeat or breath?

Why refuse to be forced to behave
but relish in the spoils cruelty gave?

Why make the most common sense,
rot away until it becomes nonsense?


Love is patient and love is kind;
doesn’t envy, it’s one of a kind.

It doesn’t boast, it isn’t proud.
Love does not dishonor others;
it isn’t self-seeking or ever loud.
It isn’t easily angered by others.

Love keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in any evil,
but rejoices with truthful tongues.
It always ever protects and is civil.

It always trusts and always hopes;
always perseveres, anyhow it goes.

1 Corinthians 13:4‭-‬8NIV


The fear of the unknown
is the beginning of wisdom.
Searching more of the known,
does not guarantee a kingdom.

Things we know the most;
those bothering us the most,
are those that worry most of all
and they always do make us fall.


We are being forced to be quiet
because of many voices around.
But thoughts aren’t as obidient
and minds are freest than sound.

We are working our way there,
where thought and sound wed.
The mind will shed it’s old fear,
and freedom will sleep in its bed.


We know where the future is,
it’s in front somewhere coming.
It is impossible for any to miss,
except those dead, lost or missing.

Like time, future moves in form,
and awaits all that come its way.
Since time doesn’t have one form,
so future too makes in its own way.


When we arrive at an old age,
time is quick and we are slow.
Everyone else only see a sage
though we only still just know.
Arriving at a renewed bondage
when all tell us what we know.

Thinking becomes so plentiful,
time is there but quite useless.
We are burdened to be useful,
yet challenged to be needless.
When life is richer and needful,
it gives notice that it is pointless.


The Cockerel that thinks
the sun rises to its crows,
knows not a pig sty stinks
and it’s for a meal it grows.

The moment you follow,
you are surely being led.
You are like your shadow
very much like the dead.


Very ancient saying goes;
To teach is to learn twice.
A much newer one goes;
once bitten, learned twice.
Both rarest lesson in price.

Older ones tend to know
but forget what they saw.
While younger ones show,
they care less like before.
Both never learn for sure.


You’re never too old to grow up;
you are never ever wise enough.
The reason why people grow up,
is for the passage, which is tough.

At the end, life is a passing thing
and it’ll always be like it has been.
Like many meals with everything,
life finishes like it has never been.


Whole world is actually round;
that isn’t debatable anymore.
The round world goes around,
and comes around some more.

This simple truth is influential;
so much that it is the sole rule,
that is most definitely crucial
in the manner world runs true.


Wealth as Splendor in the tale
is named Humpty as Dumbty.
Felt Dumb and Haughty it fell
and pieces became its mighty.

All it has ever owned is Spent,
as all the King’s men would tell.
Majesty of many castles’ wealth,
drank to weeds in ruined health.


The most important truth
is most often the simplest.
Hardest to follow through,
yet spoken of most easiest.

We give our best as we must,
yet the best are never enough.
Every new trail is endless a lost;
it likens despair we ever sought.


Most times we feel things,
and sense them well ahead.
Many times see these things
but don’t avoid them instead.

The signs will be there for all,
like we stumble before we fall.
Doubt stammered before it spoke,
like there’s fire where there’s smoke.


Holding onto you
and all time stops.
Very smell of you
fills my many cups.

Sweetness all about
sorrounds the still air.
Breathing in and out,
makes leaving to fear.

I am full but not fed.
I’m held in my breath,
that hasn’t yet paused.
You’re my living wealth.


Once was a rich man
with a big spoiled family;
he lived an unhappy man.

He wrote his will
and he put in a pan,
stamped with his seal.

After he had died
his whole family met
to mourn and all cried.

His will unsealed
and then it’s torn up
as they merrily mealed.


World is the baggage that matter,
life is the manner we carry it on.
Time is the passage and ladder,
age is it’s numbered mile stone.

World is a mission we’re tasked.
Living is the tour we are allowed.
Time is our tenures unmasked.
Age likens a sentence awarded.


Every day passes into another,
in the same likeness and order.
Morning blends into bright days,
evening dims out in similar ways.

Renewed days busting bubbles,
moving airy shades in mingles.
No difference in multiple colors,
only mystery behind their doors.


Past is never where we leave it,
it goes with us anywhere we go.
Past is the invincible scarred bit
that heals, remain and still show.

Like a past, everyone has a scar
that help make ’em who they’re.
Experience is in the difference,
for stereotypes aren’t evidence.
Those who habitually generalize
would end up telling general lies.


I am a dreamer,
not in my sleep.
I am the winner
in good upkeep.

Lurking so near
in my mind’s liar,
an unending tale
also fitting to tell.

All thoughts are,
only constructs.
But dreams are,
firm virtual forts.

Dreams carry on,
never do end later.
They’re once upon
and also ever after.


Seconds sprint, minutes gallop,
hour is a walk and day the trip.
Daily lives make everyone hop
and the long jumpers are cheap

People do choose to live forever
and make their lives last longer.
Every single generation further;
a rebirth, new and yet another.


What’s man, what’s he about;
some mystery for figuring out,
or another thing that will rot?

Same man’s masterful reign,
growing in loudly seen fame,
repeatedly bursts in old pain.

At the end every single man
makes his wishes as he can,
not walk a fixed single plan.


There are thin lines between
knowing what,why and when.
When would set up the win,
after What has been chosen.
Why doesn’t come as often.

Choices come fast and quick;
settings we don’t make or pick,
Daily life or death situations,
all demand instant decisions.


Grown ups’ dream in sleep
likens children’s living faith.
Man’s thought is ever deep
like the child’s love is neat.

Trust has a short life time
that outlives only childhood.
Every man lives within crime
and children learn its mood.


When the mind’s worried
and the heart’s disturbed
sky turn mainly blue daily;
like oceans also too wavy.

Sun’s glow appears burnt,
moon makes a sad afront.

Lonely life looks abandoned,
its sojourn feeling condoned.

Sad and unhappiness is cold,
all things turn blue the world.


Honking is mating season here,
drivers make frog song feel fair.
Hurried races on the sidewalks;
stampedes amidst its tall stalks.

World’s going in one big hurry;
perceptive and focus all blurry.
All life reduced to sprints daily,
as peopled streets are all crazy.

Inspired by @faucon315


After all what is there in life;
only sleep, wake, sleep again?
What’s there in the living hype,
but bits of joy in a pond of pain.

What’s it to keep and defend,
just come and go as we came?
What’s to have when it all end,
when dust and ash will remain?


Death must be so beautiful,
it’s the dying that’s frightful.

To lie in the soft brown earth
like a twig that hasn’t a faith.
Nothing more to say or prove
and the grasses waving above.

One’s head listens to silence,
in unending endless patience.
No yesterdays, nor tomorrow.
Gone is all life and it’s sorrow.

Forgotten life, forgiven time.
To be at peace, in darken fine.


“I should’ve only had to say;
Should’ve only said it once.
Human court have it’s way;
on my list of sins it’ll pounce.

“But no, all will not be forgiven.
You were never seeing past it.
In your own eyes it is a given;
I’ll always be that girl, ain’t it?

“That is why the amputations;
it’s necessary to let go all trust.
Someday you’ll see the options
and see I’m so right about us.”

Inspired by @sthrnwriter


How can someone so smart,
turn out quite so stupid too?
How come someone so loved
could turn out quite so cruel?

There are ever circumstances;
and ever always consequences.
As there’s timing in everything,
are also reasons for everything.

There is everything for its time,
like everything in its own time.


Sometimes circumstances
gets in the way of niceties.
But then certain instances
maketh their opportunities,
without warning or any ease

Taking the ride through life
feels like towed backwards.
Seeing clearer for your self
after you heard your words.
Living likens owing the Gods.


Home is where I am;
it isn’t anywhere else.
Home says who I am
and my current place.

Home always has me;
all of me, as I present.
Home ever keeps me;
in all my most recent.

Home has become me,
and keeps mine safest.
My home’s here to see;
most real in its truest


We can’t change what we can’t;
it’s a fact of life that outlive us.
No getting on or off as you want;
complain your wish, life is no bus.

Go with the flow of ticking time,
taking all the decisions you must.
Spend well your currency of time,
no change left when we die at last.


Do you know nothing is yours?
Yes, nothing is ever really yours.

Name what is certainly yours,
one thing that you know is yours?

Nothing in life is actually yours.
Surely not even your name is yours.


Lot easier to fall out of love
        than it is to fall in love.
Something in human nature
makes it easier to puncture
than it is to slowly nurture.

Lifetime is a tricky staircase,
one people make and chase.
Each, their very own building;
you got the land, start building.


If you’re in love now;
at this very moment,
or you’ve ever loved
but it’s just not current

Then you’re lucky my friend
because not everyone loves.
Most think so and pretend.
Like breath everyone knows,
love comes and it goes
But remains as you choose.


Who decides when we die,
for what we chose to die;
ideas we select to defend?

After all is there a greater lie
than the world is only one lie,
when its many lies has no end?

Living is one steady struggle,
the world is one dying jungle;
with logs in eyes to condemn.


We’ve all the time in the world,
until we finally leave the world.
There is nothing more we own,
Than the time that is our own.

All the time we have is limited,
as our use of it is complicated.
When we live out time in ease,
we live and age as we please  


There comes a time in one’s life
when everything feels repeated

Knowledge is old and ages ripe,
desire spent and drive defeated

When wait feels like a long stay
as all reasons appear conceited

Then comes the moment in life
we’ve had enough, are dispirited